Ode to a Frying Pan
by nottellingu
Summary: Frying pans are kitchen utensils. At least that's what Clary believed until that Friday. Now it has become a reason for the life she lives today. Frying pans – who knew? A oneshot; all-human; Clace.


A/N :

Hello world!

I'm back with my second oneshot. This time it's about frying pans. It might have been influenced by Tangled and Flynn Rider. I'm not quite sure how my subconscious works. Anyways I'm gonna keep this short and let you see for yourself.

Disclaimer : I do not own The Mortal Instruments or any of its characters. I do however own a frying pan. It's brilliant.

* * *

A frying pan.

That's how the whole thing started. All thanks to a standard non-stick frying pan.

I was at Izzy's house. Do you know Izzy? Probably not. Though if you've ever met her before you wouldn't forget her even if Jay and Kay came at you with a neuralyzer.

People, meet Isabelle Lightwood – the epitome of hotness. With a tall, willowy body, a sharp mind and sharper high heels, she's bound to turn heads. She seems like a dark, aloof warrior princess who's mentally debating the best way to kill you (Trust me when I say she could kill you with a butter knife and blame it on a puppy) but when you get to know her- the real her- you'll be lucky to have someone so strong to be your rock. She's the key to my lock, the cheese to my pizza, the coffee to my morning, the paintbrush to my palette and the yin to my yang. She's my second best friend. The best friend title goes to Simon. (Sorry Iz, you know I love you. And Simon wipe that smirk off your face.)

Guys, I present before you –drum roll please- Simon. Cue cymbal crash. The geeky best friend of twelve years. While Izzy is the definition of attractive, Simon fits the stereotype of nerds to a t. His round glasses, unruly curly hair, shy demeanor, geeky quips and band and gamer t-shirts only further enhance his nerdiness. He's the friend who jokes around at his expense to turn your frown upside down. He's the friend who has the best shoulder to cry on. He's my best friend and my brother from another mother.

Anyways on that fateful Friday, the three of us – Izzy, Simon and I - were at her place. High school had sucked that week. Don't get me wrong. School is only good on days that don't end in y. But that week it was like a vacuum cleaner. Yeah, it sucked that hard.

We were all in agreement that we needed to unwind. After hours of bickering – I'm looking at you Izzy and Simon – we finally decided on a movie marathon. Back-to-back Scream movies, buckets of popcorn and a truckload of candy – that would be our therapy.

We were in Izzy's room watching Scream on her 48" flat screen, sprawled out her black king size bed. After the first movie we were all huddled under the blanket. At least that had muffled our screams. Otherwise people would have thought that we were being murdered and not the actors on screen.

A little while later we ran out of popcorn. I jumped at the chance and offered to get a refill regardless of whether anyone wanted it or not. The creepy, masked dude was about to murder someone else.

Grabbing the big blue bowl, I ran out of the room like a bat out of hell.

Once I was safely in the hallways, I took a minute to compose myself and willed my heart to slow down before it had beaten out of my rib cage.

The hallways were eerily quiet. My footsteps were soft thuds against the carpeted floor. I finally reached the end of the hallways after what felt like years.

I switched on the popcorn maker. I leaned against the kitchen counter as the popcorn popped. I should probably explain about the popcorn maker.

You see, Izzy's parents are crazy rich. They must make the same amount of money as a small country's GDP. I shit you not. But in order to make this insane amount of money they have to spend months at a time away from home. Maryse and Robert have to leave the kids to fend for themselves quite a lot. Their youngest son, Max, used to accompany them but that was before it started to interfere with his schooling. So now it's just the Lightwood kids – Alec, the eldest extremely hot, blue eyed eighteen year old who is unfortunately gay, Izzy and Max, my animée protégée – and their eccentric 'nanny', Madame Dorothea.

Madame Dorothea looks after the children, cooking their meals and doing their laundry. But when she's not doing that, she's a fortune teller. She runs with the likes of Professor Trelawney – can't give a positive reading even if her life depended on it. But when she's not 'on duty' she's a kind old sap.

Anyways coming back to the Lightwood parents, they feel guilty so they spoil their children rotten. That means that each of the Lightwood kids get a room the size of an apartment, the eligible ones get fancy-schmancy sports cars and other things of my dream including popcorn makers, ice cream makers and a five foot gumball machine. Seriously, it's almost as tall as me. Okay, well it's not that hard to be as tall as me seeing how I could legally apply for the status of midget. All those parking spaces reserved specifically for me… Wait, that's for the handicapped. Oh well, it was a good dream while it lasted.

Sorry, I got a little sidetracked. Simon says that I go off into my own world so often that it's like I'm not a citizen ; I'm more of foreigner coming for a vacation on visiting visa. I'll try to stop rambling now.

The popping sound coming from the popcorn maker stops. I put the popcorn maker in the huge blue bowl. I opened the freezer to get some ice cream too. Because why not?

I was about to make my way out of the kitchen when I heard a noise. Well, that did it. Scary night, frightened girl and shuffling noises.

Oh hell no! This girl had a will to live. I would not become the foolish victim of another clichéd horror movie.

So I grabbed the first thing I could use as a weapon – a frying pan.

Now, I know what you're thinking. 'Seriously Clary, a frying pan? You were in the kitchen! Knives! Forks! Heck, even a rolling pin would have been better!'

In my defense, I wasn't in my right mind. Scary movies tend to do that to people.

Leaving my popcorn and ice cream on the counter, I tiptoed out of the kitchen. That's really saying something because the last time I tiptoed was when I was five and trying to sneak cookies out of the cookie jar, way past my bedtime. Ah, those were the times.

As I entered the hallways, a movement in the shadows caught my eye. I did the most plausible thing to do at that moment. I attacked.

"KIAI!"

If a karate instructor had seen me, he'd have given me a black belt on the spot. I had caught the intruder square in the jaw with my trusty frying pan.

"What the fuck?!"

Hold up, I knew that voice.

Jace Herondale crouched before me, cradling his injured jaws in his hands.

My hands flew up to my mouth in mortification. As a result the frying pan fell and landed on Jace's toes. Jace started hopping up and down like a bunny on a sugar high. He let out small winces of pain.

"Oh my god, I'm sooo sorry! Are you okay?"

"Yep, everything's peachy," he hissed out through his teeth. He leaned against the wall, one hand massaging the bruise starting to form on his jaw and the other rubbing his toes.

I stepped forward to help him with his balance.

Bad move.

I stubbed my toes against the frying pan lying on the floor.

I snatched the offending object off the floor and mimicked Jace's pose against the wall. We limped over to the couch in the next room, supporting each other.

We heaved ourselves onto the couch, groaning.

"I suppose we're even now?"

"Even?!" Jace's golden eyes bulged out of his sockets. "I didn't even get to hit you back!" he cried indignantly.

"Yes, but I stubbed my toes. I have a kink in my feet."

Jace let out a low chuckle at that, cringed and rubbed his jaws.

"A kink in your feet? I'm going to have to use that excuse some time."

"It's not an excuse. It's a thing. One which I suffer from time and again."

"Whatever you say, princess."

"What are _you_ doing here anyway?" I huffed, a bit annoyed at him for calling me a princess.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I'm hanging out with my best friends, Isabelle and Simon."

"As am I."

"No way. I would have noticed a dyed blonde goth wanna-be crashing our movie marathon."

"I meant that I was hanging out with my best friend, Alec Lightwood, who happens to live in the same house as your best friend, Isabelle Lightwood who is coincidentally his sister.

"Oh."

"And for the record, my hair's naturally blonde."

"Whatever. I'm going to get an icepack for my foot. You want one?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. But make sure it's really frozen. It might melt from being exposed to all this hotness."

"You know, they say that men tend to be cocky when they're not… _cocky_ elsewhere."

"Oh, I can assure you that I exceed expectations in that department. I can even show you if you like." Jace winked.

I could feel the heat of an oncoming blush.

"I think I'll pass. Maybe some other time."

"I'm going to hold you that."

Yep, I blushed profusely.

"Right." I scampered out as fast as my kinked feet could carry me. I could hear Jace laughing at my flushed appearance. Ass.

I went back to the kitchen and opened the freezer to grab two ice packs. But there was only one. I took it. I stood in front of the freezer trying to cool my tomato red face.

I walked – more like limped - back to the living room with the ice pack.

"There was only one ice pack so I guess we'll have to share."

"Fine," Jace grunted. He was tapping away on his phone.

I flopped down next to him. He was scrolling through his playlist. I put the icepack on my throbbing foot. He seemed to have chosen a song because he set his phone down on the coffee table so that the speakers were exposed.

A familiar tune filled the air.

'I walked a lonely road.'

"Ah, Boulevard of Broken Dreams. This song ever gets old."

Jace took the icepack from me and placed it on his bluish black jaws.

"This song is pretty old," he said.

"Your mom is older than this song."

"Uh…"

"I'm sorry. That came out a bit too bitchy."

He grinned.

We lapsed into an awkward silence, letting the music fill in the blanks. The music kept playing, the songs changed and the icepack interchanged hands every two minutes.

As the hands of the clock ticked, the icepack started melting.

"This icepack is no longer an icepack and more of a water pack. I'll have to get the pack of frozen peas." I broke the silence first.

"I hate to say I told you so but… "He clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "I told you – an icepack didn't stand a chance against my hotness."

"You mean the icepack didn't stand a chance against this _hot and humid day._ "

"It's almost nightfall."

"Your point?"

He made a funny sound – a cross between an exasperated huff and a tired sigh.

I waltzed out of the room feeling slightly triumphant. I returned a few minutes later with the pack of frozen peas.

Just as I was about to sit down, I felt a throbbing sensation on my upper arm.

"Now we're even." Jace grinned at me impishly, the frying pan held loosely in his hand.

"You don't get the pack of frozen peas.'

"Peas. Bleh."

"You have the mentality of a three year old."

"No, I have the mentality of a five year old. You, on the other side, have the mentality of a three year old."

I stuck my tongue out at him.

"I rest my case," he said.

"Oh yeah? Can a three year old do this?" I made an obscene hand gesture.

"Cute."

Izzy stormed in.

"Clary, where the hell is that popcorn?" She froze and took in the pack of peas on my arm, Jace's bruised jaws and our feet propped on the coffee table.

She burst out laughing.

"Simon! Come here, I found something more entertaining than the movie!" She choked out the words, clutching the stitches on her sides.

"Oh har-dee-har-har," I said sullenly.

I lobbed the pack of peas at her face. It narrowly missed.

"Watch it! You could have given me a black eye."

"Then you could have joined the Black Eyed Peas," Jace remarked.

Now it was my turn to laugh while Izzy scowled.

Simon stood by the doorway.

"What's going on?" he asked.

Izzy seized Simon by his arms and dragged him out of the room with her.

"Come on, Simon. People here are not very nice."

"Says the Wicked Witch of the West." Jace makes horrible life decisions. Jace would probably have lost his life had it not been for Simon restraining Izzy.

"ALEXANDER GIDEON LIGHTWOOD! YOU GET THIS LAME EXCUSE FOR A BEST FRIEND OUT OF MY HOUSE IF YOU VALUE HIS WELLBEING!"

"Let's go Izzy." Simon was tugging Izzy away before World War III broke out in front of our very eyes. He wasn't making much progress. Izzy can be really strong when she wants to be.

Simon seemed to be failing in his efforts to restrain her. Then he kissed her. It calmed her for a few seconds.

Did I mention that they were dating? No? Well, they're dating. Now you know.

"Ew." Jace voiced my thoughts. I drilled a hole into his face, giving him my best 'Your silence or your life' expression. He seemed to get the message. He resorted to fiddling with his hands.

Simon and Izzy were having a silent … argument in the corner. But it was more one-sided. Izzy was ranting. Each time Simon tried to get in a word, Izzy cut him off.

I cleared my throat. "Uh...guys? Do you wanna take this somewhere more private? I'll join you in a few minutes with popcorn." I stared pointedly at Simon.

Izzy looked as if she wanted to protest but Simon nodded and dragged her away.

Jace whistled. "That was quite something."

"Don't repeat it. Next time we might not be there to save you."

"By the way, where's Alec?" I asked.

"He's out." Jace wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "With Magnus."

"Then what are you _really_ doing here?"

"We were supposed to hang out. But he got a call from Magnus. He said it was an urgent 'college project'."

It was common knowledge to us that Alec was gay and had been in a relationship with Magnus for almost three months. But Alec hadn't officially come out and was still 'in the closet'. That was just fine with us. We were ready to wait for Alec to tell us in his own time as per his comfort.

"Seems like everyone's dating." I observed.

"You wanna go out? Just to even things out?" Jace teased.

"Jace."

"No, seriously." And to my surprise Jace's expression had become solemn and serious. "Do you want to grab a cup of coffee together sometime?"

"Why?"

"You're a pretty cool person, Clary"

"You're not so bad yourself, Herondale," I smiled. "I would love to get coffee sometime."

He smiled back. "Okay."

"Okay."

Silence wrapped around us once more but this time it was a cozy silence.

"I should probably get back with the popcorn," I said getting up from my seat next to him.

"Yeah, sure."

"See you later, Jace."

"See you," Jace grinned.

Picking the frying pan off the table, I headed out.

To this day, the frying pan remains a treasured keepsake. Yes, I nicked it from Izzy's house. Let's keep that our little secret, shall we? Insert playful wink.

I'll admit I occasionally pummel Jace with the frying pan and he hits me with it too.

But hey, that's marriage.

And that's my story.

All I have left to say is – Invest in a frying pan. It's handy in the kitchen. And it just might change your life.

A/N :

So on a scale of Valentine 'ship-sinker' Morgenstern to Jace 'schmexy' Herondale, what did you think? I had tons of fun writing this. You know what would be more fun? Reading your reviews. Leave your thoughts- negative or positive – in the box below and click 'submit'.


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